


The Winter Soldier Gets A Job, And Other Massacres.

by Celloofdoom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bucky Barnes is done with this shit, Gen, I am English, I know nothing about coffee shops and it shows, Knives, Murder Fantasies, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Swearing, Syrup drinking, Tony Being Tony, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 00:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celloofdoom/pseuds/Celloofdoom
Summary: Tony thinks the Winter Soldier needs a job. The Winter Soldier does not need a job.





	The Winter Soldier Gets A Job, And Other Massacres.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bucky works at a coffee shop](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/398388) by Killzmotion. 



The Winter Soldier Gets A Job, And Other Massacres.

“Barnes, do something with yourself. Tall, dark and stabby needs to learn how to get along with people. Tell the manager of the coffee shop in the foyer I sent you down for a job!”  
Bucky stared up at Tony, his hollow eyes blank. He did, however, stop flipping the knife that he held in his flesh hand. “A job?” he asked after a moment.  
“Yeah, you know the thing people do to earn money, socialise, that sort of thing. It’s called getting a life. You need a life,” Tony expanded, arms akimbo, encompassing all the life around them.  
Bucky stared some more.  
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raising alarmingly.  
“Yes,” Tony said with finality. “I can’t have him cluttering up the tower glaring at all the Avengers. It’s making them jumpy. Barton already fell out of the ducts once. He doesn’t need another broken nose.”  
“Jumpy?” Natasha asked. “I have never been jumpy in my life.”  
Tony looked at Bucky. “Soldat, say ‘boo’,” he asked sweetly.  
“Boo?” Bucky replied, looking baffled.  
Natasha got up and walked out of the room.  
“See? Jumpy,” Tony stated.  
Sam rolled his eyes. “You can’t just send him down to the coffee shop and expect him to deal with customers. He’s not ready for that level of....”  
“I don’t see why not,” Steve said quietly. “I can keep an eye on him if you like. I’m just sitting here writing reports. I can do it just as well downstairs.”  
“Great. Then we’re settled. Make sure he’s de-weaponised first. We don’t want him shooting the customers.”  
“I can just stab them,” Bucky said quietly as he got up and meekly followed Steve to the elevator.  
*****  
Steve wasn’t so sure about the clothes Bucky was currently wearing, but Bucky point blank refused to wear anything but goth couture. He would wear anything if it was pale black, bright black, black tartan, black check or floral black, as long as it was black. The hollow eyes, pale face and long hair did nothing for his friend’s vampire cosplay vibe either. However, at least he wasn’t wearing Kevlar and bondage leather (which made a change, to be frank), so down to the foyer they went (once Steve had divested Bucky of five knives, two small guns, a larger gun – where did he keep this shit? – and a couple of toothpicks – just in case).  
Mainly for the use of the employees of the tower, ‘Roasted’ was a tiny, coffee-scented haven attached to the foyer of Stark Avengers Tower. The manager was a woman named Linda, who was so relaxed, Steve was sure she wouldn’t notice if she fell over. She ran the café with a smile, mostly concentrating on baking delicious looking muffins and cakes, whilst her employees did the serious job of serving customers.  
Upon meeting Bucky, however, she looked a little dubious. “Mr. Stark said to give him a job?” she asked, eyeing him sideways as Steve explained the situation.  
“Yes.”  
“Are you... sure?”  
“Yes,” Steve repeated patiently.  
Linda sighed. “And you think this is a good idea?”  
The face Steve pulled was commonly and universally known as the ‘Captain America-is-disappointed-in-you’ face. He stared down at Linda, eyes sorrowful. “He’s my best friend since childhood. He was thought killed in action and was tortured and used as a tool by Hydra for years. He needs a break,” he said in the tone of voice that would have millions weeping into their lattes for months.  
Linda’s eyes softened. “Poor guy.” She looked at Bucky with new eyes. “Come on then. Let’s get you acclimatised.” She grabbed Bucky’s metal hand and led the Winter Soldier away to the back of the café. Bucky gave Steve the kind of glare that, if looks could maim, would leave Steve in shreds, but he went willingly enough - puppy-like, almost.  
*******  
Steve sat down and set out his reports, ostensibly working on them as he watched Linda take Bucky through how to work the machines, where everything was, how to froth the best coffees, how to make cute little love hearts in cocoa, and other baffling actions. She showed him a small cheats chart kept under the counter and had him make several different types of coffee (of which Steve was the, sometimes not-so-grateful recipient), until she was confident Bucky could try working under the watchful eye of a young blonde assistant named Cherry.  
“If you want to know anything, just ask Cherry,” she said as she took off her apron. “I have a doctor’s appointment. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” With a happy wave, she left the café, leaving Bucky staring at the muffins.  
The moment Linda left the café, however, Cherry whipped out her phone, popped some gum in her mouth and disappeared to the kitchen. Bucky watched her leave, then picked up the cheat sheet.  
“Macchiato half shot espresso breve?” Bucky muttered. “Sounds like a summoning of demons.”  
Steve agreed, feeling that Catholic guilt creep him at just the intonation of such mysterious words. “What even is that?” he asked.  
“Fucked if I know,” Bucky grunted.  
“Doppio con panna, Amen.” Bucky read, crossing himself. “Isn’t that a Pope’s blessing?”  
Steve laughed, gazing at Bucky with hearts in his eyes. “Maybe,” he commented.  
Bucky was about to go on, when a stick-thin woman wearing something that would probably cost an entire decade of rent in the old days, stormed up to the counter. “Cappuccino and a blueberry muffin,” she ordered.  
Bucky stared at her.  
She stared back.  
Bucky frowned.  
She continued to stare. Steve began to think that this woman could probably give the Winter Solider a run for his money in the flat look department.  
“And?” Bucky asked at last.  
“Tall Ca-ppu-cci-no and a blue-be-rry mu-ffin.” The woman repeated as if he was a drooling idiot. This was a bad move.  
Bucky’s stare turned very, very gradually into the kind of murderous glare that would have most people running for the hills screaming.  
The woman took a step backwards, finally intimidated. “Pll...please?” she quavered.  
Bucky nodded and began to make a cappuccino, referring to the cheat sheet often. He dropped a muffin onto a plate, shoved the cup across the counter and stared some more, holding out his hand. “Eight Dollars. PLEASE.”  
The woman gave over her card and he put the payment through with short, sharp movements. He slammed the card onto the counter and stepped back. “Enjoyyourcoffeehaveaniceday,” he growled.  
The woman left quickly.  
Bucky leaned over the counter and banged his head on the surface. He said nothing else. Steve grinned to himself and continued writing his report.  
*****  
After five more customers, Bucky was desperate enough to attempt suicide by drinking down the entire bottle of organic plum syrup. At least that’s what it looked like to Steve once he saw the look on his face just before he disappeared to the bathroom.  
After eight customers, it took Steve ten minutes to notice that Bucky was sharpening stirrers into wicked points.  
After ten customers, few of them left with coffee. Most hurried out having not ordered a thing.

The eleventh customer was a guy in skinny jeans, thick rimmed glasses, a beard and a man bun. He was the epitome of hipster. He ignored Bucky’s murder-glare. “Can I get a venti wheatgrass unsweetened soy latte and a mealworm rocket bagel.” He asked, oblivious to the assassin now flipping a knife casually behind the counter.  
“No,” Bucky stated flatly. “Go to Pronoun if you want that shit.”  
The guy looked at him, looked at the knife, looked at him again, then backed away, out of the café.  
Steve got up, walked over to the counter and slowly took the knife away from Bucky. Bucky stared at him, then, with one metal hand, grabbed the caramel syrup and drank it right from the bottle.  
Three hours later and Cherry and Linda had not made an appearance. Bucky was by now practically vibrating with fury. Of course this was when Tony decided to check up on his newest employee. He entered the now deserted café and looked around at the empty tables, then at the dark assassin glowering malevolently from behind the counter.  
“Barnes. What have you done to my café? This was the buzzing hub of the tower yesterday. Seriously, profits are down 90% since this morning.”  
Bucky flipped a newly sharpened stirrer. “Maybe you shouldn’t ask a brainwashed, murderous assassin to serve motherfucking coffee to motherfucking hipsters. And I’m not even saying that ironically, Stark!” Bucky growled.  
Tony swallowed and looked at Steve. Steven merely smiled and shrugged. Bucky took a pink frosted cupcake from the display case and began to eat it in the most aggressive manner possible. Tony seemed lost for words for once. Bucky chewed, his stare fixed on the smaller man.  
“Oh... well, carry on,” Tony muttered, before hurrying out of the café. “But seriously, Barnes,” he yelled from outside. “Try and be nice.”  
Bucky looked at Steve. Steve smiled. “You can be nice,” he said in encouragement.  
“I am NOT nice,” Bucky stated in the sort of tone that would more suit a cobra.  
As he spoke, another skinny jean type came in with a giggling girl, who, upon spotting Steve, squealed in joy and took out her phone. Steve went bright red and aww-shucked out of there. The man, letting his girlfriend run off in fan-girly pursuit, asked for an item off the Super-Secret-Superhero menu - an Asgardian Asskicker.  
“What’s that?” Bucky asked flatly after perusing the cheat sheet and coming up blank.  
“Macchiato, triple shot espresso, butterscotch syrup, whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles.” The man reeled off, which was kind of an impressive feat when faced by the Winter Solider, now double-flipping sharpened stirrers and glaring like all the demons of hell were in front of him and ordering cupcakes.  
“’Cos he travels by fucking rainbow, right?” Bucky asked, almost sweetly.  
“That’s right,” the oblivious man said.  
“Fuck off,” Bucky replied. His metal arm reset and rippled dangerously.  
The man blinked, then realised that he was in imminent danger of being ripped limb from limb. “Never mind,” he said hurriedly and left. Quickly.  
Steve returned at that moment, having given the fangirl the slip. “How’s things going, Buck?”  
Bucky was banging his head on the counter again in a fit of utter desperation. At least fifteen coffee stirrers were embedded deeply in the wood. “I’m so done with this shit. Let’s go home before I murder everyone.”  
Steve just gave Bucky a happy smile, secure in the knowledge that his friend was with him, and alive, and recovering.  
Kinda.


End file.
